West End Earl by Bethany Bennett
Epilogue
London, eight months later
Their arrival in Town had been strategic. The Whitbournes’ ball was one of the final social engagements of the Season, and the perfect time for Phee to make her first appearance in society as Countess Carlyle before retreating to Lakeview for the rest of the year.
Phee smiled a welcome as her husband returned with refreshments. The Earl of Carlyle’s marriage to a nobody of modest means and no title had been a brief scandal. She and Cal had enjoyed weathering that particular gossip feast from a distance.
Emma’s house in Olread Cove had been the perfect place to spend the winter. Winds had buffeted the paned windows, and cozy fireplaces had kept the small rooms comfortable. By Christmas, both Emma and Phee could make a decent pastry crust, and they’d even mastered bread and sweet buns under the patient tutelage of Mrs. Shephard.
Standing in this glittering ballroom, surrounded by the elite of society and their curious stares, Phee thought wistfully of the cottage. The warm kitchen. Phee and Cal’s big bed upstairs by their fireplace. The bedroom window facing the sea, and the piles of quilts they’d spent months making love under. It had been an idyllic winter.
Emma had given birth to a healthy boy. Little Alton immediately stole every heart in the room and didn’t seem inclined to give them back anytime soon. He was all chubby rolls and giggles, and his head only recently had lost that intoxicating baby smell. Lordy, she missed Alton and his mama.
Taking a glass of champagne from Cal, she took a sip.
“You look good enough to eat, my love. How are you holding up?” Cal asked.
“Everyone is talking about us.”
He shrugged, having become more comfortable being the center of gossip these days. “Let them talk. They’re just jealous because you are the most vibrant woman in the room and I’m the happiest man alive. Except perhaps for this fellow.” Cal added the last sentence as an afterthought when Viscount and Lady Amesbury joined them, accompanied by Lottie’s godmother, Lady Agatha Dalrymple.
Phee had always liked Lady Agatha, and Cal held a special place in his heart for the older woman. Having the blessing of a grande dame like Agatha would certainly ease Phee’s acceptance to the ton.
A black feather quivered in Lady Agatha’s silver curls. “That gown is one of Madame Bouvier’s designs. I’d recognize her work anywhere. You wear it well, Lady Carlyle, with distinctive style.”
Smoothing a hand over the emerald silk, Phee smiled her thanks. Precise folds and swaths of silk across the bodice gave the illusion of a larger bust and a more dramatic dip at her waist. Phee loved it—even after having to don the gown twice. The first time, the dress had drifted to the floor around the same time Cal had tumbled her back onto the bed. It had been a delightful reason to arrive late to the Whitbournes’ ball.
“How do you like your first evening in society?” Lottie asked.
Phee fought a grimace. “All the gawking makes me nervous. Then someone asked Cal where he’d met me, and he said I was under his nose all along, and I nearly choked him in front of God and everyone.”
Lady Agatha laughed. “If I may offer a word of advice, child? Embrace your status as a misfit. Be you, as gloriously and shamelessly as possible. Their speculation will turn to envy. All these people are wondering where you came from, but that’s a question you don’t have to answer. The only thing that matters is who you are now.”
Lottie reached over and squeezed Phee’s hand. “And you, my dear, are a treasure—not to mention a countess. You have the second most handsome husband in London”—at that, Ethan and Cal laughed into their wineglasses and Phee grinned—“and you’re surrounded by friends. All the gossips can only wish for a life as good as yours.”
“Do you know, I’ve realized something. During the countless social events I’ve attended with you over the years, there’s one thing we’ve never done.” A wicked smile lit Cal’s face, much like the one he’d worn earlier in the evening. She flushed at the memory of why they’d been late and how he’d put that remarkable mouth to use.
“Something you’ve never done…Gotten me drunk in public?” Phee downed the last of her champagne and placed the glass on a nearby tray.
The others laughed, but Cal set aside his glass and offered a hand to his wife. “Danced with you. Come along, Puppy. Let’s really give them something to talk about.”